Let Balance Be Restored
by MelancholyAndBlithe
Summary: Gwendolyn Trevelyan's world is torn open like the hole in the sky when the Conclave goes up in flames and she's thrust into what seems like every problem facing Thedas. A new world power, a bloody war, the looming conquest of an ancient being, and a ceaseless tugging on feelings she believed were best left alone. (Trevelyan x Undecided LI)
1. Prologue - The Conclave

**A/N:** My first chaptered fanfiction on this site. I'm awful at writing fighting scenes and this chapter called for one unfortunately. This chapter is a prologue and details, in my opinion, what would've happened at the Conclave. Let me know if I should include anything. Criticism, as long as it isn't overtly rude, is highly appreciated and encouraged. Thank you and happy reading.

* * *

Gwendolyn brushed her hands over her clothes, looking at herself in the mirror. It'd have to do, she supposed. She was clothed to look polished, but not gaudy. Her hair was done nicely, but not elaborately. Her clothing consisted of a pale green tunic with a chocolate brown corset, laced tight enough to punctuate her figure, but not so much she couldn't breathe. Underneath were everknit wool pants, hugging her legs tightly, but very comfortable, and simple brown boots, tied neatly. Her hair was done in loose curls, falling in dark brown waves past her shoulder blades, almost blending in with her corset. Looking at her reflection, she subconsciously picked the braid from her hair, a small one, woven at her right temple that reached past her shoulder, and smiled. If only Lydia could see her now.

Sadness dampened her heart as she continued to look at the reflection. The glass bead holding her braid together was glowing blue with magic; a gift from the Senior Enchanter of the Ostwick Circle herself. It was a gift for passing her Harrowing, about six years ago. Careful not to tear, lest she smudge her eye makeup, Gwendolyn took in a shaky breath and let it out in an identical sigh and tried to smile again, noting it didn't quite reach her eyes.

"Don't worry. I'll make a difference for everyone. I promise." She swore in a whisper, glad no one else had been there with her. Her helpers scurried out of the room shortly after she had been dressed and made up. She didn't know why. They seemed like they were in a hurry.

Or maybe they simply didn't want to be near a mage for too long. Even if she were noble. Gwendolyn thought it ludicrous. The notion that mages should have such a thick and shadowy stigma attached to them. Not all mages were bad. In fact, most of the mages at the Circle were good friends of hers, with the exception of a few here and there who either kept to themselves, were made tranquil, or the new transfers.

Deciding that she was very much done with staring at her image, Gwendolyn departed, making her way to the lower level of the temple, where they were having the peace talks.

Gwendolyn walked in with another group of people, some being Grey Wardens, a couple others mages like herself. She scanned the room, almost letting out a low whistle at the display of people gathered. It seemed as though delegates from all walks of organizations were here. Of course you had your mages and Templars, seated on either side of the room. The mages she walked in with scattered, each sitting in different pews. There were Grey Wardens, in full armor, sitting in different places in the temple as well, pockmarking the formation of people with silver and dark blue. Mercenaries were there too, guarding each door, with at least one, if not two, all with armor, all with some kind of weaponry, and all with stony emotionless faces. They must be the Valo-Kas Mercenary Company that the Divine hired for added protection, just in case something (inevitably) went awry. Chantry Sisters and Brothers littered the aisles as well, although some sat at the front of the room with the two main representatives; a Templar Gwen didn't even recognize, and a mage from an entirely different Circle. She briefly wondered where Fiona was.

Gwendolyn had come to the Conclave in hopes of shedding light on the situation of her fellow mages. Her noble position might've had some more pull in the presence of the Chantry and hopefully the Divine would hear her and her fellow mages out some. She'd feared that the recklessness of the rebellion had caused yet even more stigma to be attached to her brethren. At the same time, however, she didn't blame them. Even in the Ostwick Circle, there were many mages who felt that their freedom had been extinguished when they were taken here, away from their families, homes, and loved ones. She was in the same boat with them, after all, and felt their pain.

The temple was beautiful, especially after it had been redone and looked quite the jewel as it did now. New stained glass windows took up almost the entirety of the walls, depicting scenes from Chantry history. Andraste, of course, the Exalted Marches, Maferath, turning his head in shame, and the Golden City, or a beautiful fractal imagining of it. The stone around the images were cleaned and looked smooth to the touch. pews in two rows stretched the expanse of the room, and were obviously new, fitted with ring velvet cushions.

Walking towards the front of the Temple, Gwendolyn found two people she was familiar with, smiled, and made her way through the pew, excusing herself, bumping into many peoples' knees and robes before standing in front of them. They smiled and moved aside so she could sit in between them. The first being her friend, Mirelle Rayfield, a gifted ice mage. Her black hair sat in wild curls, barely touching her shoulders. The second, Ross Adwell, a lightning mage and newly made Enchanter, had his long copper hair pulled back in a bun. Both of them were wearing their nicer robes for the event. They both came at the behest of Gwendolyn, insisting they come along.

"Why Miss Trevelyan! How lovely you look today!" Mirelle fanned herself, batting her eyelashes; a mocking example of how she believed nobility behaved. Gwendolyn hadn't much experience with her family, but from what she understood before she was taken away, Mirelle wasn't that far off. Her Orlesian accent rang through her words clearly. "But one has to wonder where your robes are. After all, you're not in uniform." Mirelle commented, ceasing the fanning, and eyeing Gwendolyn from top to bottom, making the latter blush under the scrutiny of her companion.

"I don't know completely myself. I just asked them to make me look nice and they came up with this. I wish they'd just let me wear my robes." Gwendolyn answered, pretending to straighten out wrinkles in her tunic.

"Maybe they wanted to separate you, nobility, from the rest of us. Not all of the mages are wearing robes today, but the ones who aren't are of noble standing." Ross pointed out, nodding his head behind him. Gwendolyn turned around to scope out more of the mages and sure enough, he was right. She recognized another noble male mage from Ostwick wearing a silk shirt and a hat. Others sitting on their side were women and other men, dressed in traditional Ferelden furs and clothing rather than the standard or formal robes that all mages were given upon being placed in a Circle.

"But why?" Mirelle asked, leaning forward to get a look at Ross. He looked between Mirelle and Gwendolyn before answering.

"Well, they probably wanted to keep nobility held apart from the rest of us. If they do that, then maybe they're given less stigma than those of us born of common blood." He paused to rub his hands together. Nervous habit? "Since the nobility here and the representatives will be the ones making most of the arguments, they wanted them to look presentable and polished. Looking like just another mage will not grant that kind of standing or respect, unless you're an Enchanter of some sort." He finished, leaning back in his seat, still facing the two.

"Well that's insulting." Mirelle commented, her eyebrows coming together in a decisive frown.

"A bit, yes. But it's not her fault. It's the public." Ross agreed, nodding his head once. Gwendolyn thought of him as an older brother. One of her first friends in the Circle and he continued to be a close one all these years.

"Right." Gwendolyn concurred, albeit with a voice that sounded unsure. She knew he had a point. But she also had to wonder how many nobles insisted they look the part, rather than stick together with their fellow mages? If she had her way, she'd be sitting there with her formal robes right alongside the others. Besides, they were more comfortable.

"So how do you think this is going to go?" Mirelle asked, her demeanor changing, and a grin stretching her face, showing off straight and healthy teeth.

"With any luck? Maybe we can negotiate our way to earned freedom. One can only hope, right?" Gwendolyn answered, her head high, straightening her posture. The peace talks would begin any moment now and she wanted to be ready.

* * *

About two hours later, no sign of the Divine, and no sign of these peace talks going anywhere. The representatives were either arguing or discussing amongst themselves in whispers, leaning into the other so much Gwendolyn couldn't read their lips properly. Someone from the Chantry went to go find Divine Justinia over a half an hour ago, but they still hadn't returned. The Temple surely wasn't that spacious. They could've found her by now, couldn't they?

"Where do you think she is?" Mirelle asked, leaning close to Gwendolyn while doing so. Gwendolyn offered no response as she turned her head to look behind them, hoping that maybe the Divine was simply chatting with someone else. A stretch, but she'd hoped. Nothing. Something struck her as odd, however. There were people missing from the pews. Several, actually. In each and every pew, there were empty spaces, where there were previously none.

"Something's not right. People are missing." Gwendolyn frowned, keeping her eyes on the missing spaces. Ross turned around and scanned the room with her, his own eyes narrowing, trying to figure out who was missing.

'Go looking.' A voice rang out in Gwendolyn's head. At this, she pursed her lips. 'Go searching. Something's not right.' There it was again. Her instincts were telling her to go investigate. Standing, she began to scoot her way past the knees of people once more.

"Where are you going?" Mirelle called after her.

"As I said before, something's not right. I'm going to go check things out." Was the only response she gave. Ross stood up and moved through the pew and stopped her, grabbing her shoulder and turning her around to face him.

"Gwen, maybe the missing people are out looking for the Divine. You should stay here." He reasoned. Gwendolyn frowned again, shaking her head. Her instincts told her different.

"I don't believe that. It could be true, but my gut tells me something else entirely. Please sit back down. I'll only be gone for a moment." She reasoned. Ross shook his head, standing his ground.

"No. Either you sit back down, or I'm coming with you." He squared his shoulders, looking resolute.

"Me too." Mirelle chimed in, climbing out of her seat and joining the other two, bounding on her feet. Gwendolyn looked between the two of them, and sighed in exasperation, pinching the bridge of her nose. Turning, she began to walk towards the back of the room, noticing two doors. There was the one on the left, which she entered in the first place, and a second, on the right of the room, both thresholds guarded by Qunari mercenaries.

The duo trailed behind her, told by the footsteps in her wake. Gwendolyn decided to take the door on the right, reasoning that that would be a more likely place to look than the entryway which everyone came. The Qunari standing there crossed their swords in front of the door, both looking down at the trio, eyes sending an intimidating glare that could chill the blood of even a rage demon. Ross did the talking.

"Excuse me my good gentlemen. Lady Trevelyan requests entry past this door." He bowed slightly, gesturing towards Gwendolyn with a graceful sweep of his hands. Both Qunari exchanged looks before regarding the trio once more.

"What is your business beyond this point?" One asked, eyes darting between all three of them. Ross answered yet again.

"The Lady wishes only to locate her lover. He was one that exited with the exodus of people earlier, and simply wanted to see where he ran off to. You see, he left something important behind and she wanted to give it to him before they parted ways again, but he left without a word." Mirelle and Gwendolyn looked at Ross as he continued to weave the lie. "He's awfully scatterbrained. He probably just forgot. He has a habit of that." To complete the lie, Ross smiled and made a gesture of his hands to emphasize his point, waving it in a couple small circles beside his shoulder. The two women looked at the Qunari mercenaries, who exchanged looks and began speaking in a foreign language before looking back at the trio briefly and then spoke again. Finally done, the other Qunari spoke to them.

"What is it?" He asked. "This thing that's so imperative that he see? Where is it?" He asked, his face ever wary, his companion mirroring his skepticism. Gwendolyn acted this time, grabbing her braid and showing them the bead.

"This. This bead is an heirloom, given to me by my mother. It has a magical protection spell on it and I was hoping to give it to him before he left, so that he may have a bit of extra help when he's travelling back home to Kirkwall." She explained. "After all, I don't know how these talks will proceed and it's good to have a bit of insurance just in case things go badly."

"Then why are they coming?" The Qunari motioned to Mirelle and Ross.

"They're my personal bodyguards." At this, one Qunari snorted in derision. "Mages can be just as handy to have around as someone who carries a sword and shield." She argued. The Qunari once again exchanged looks before they relented, dropping their swords.

"Thank you my good men. I'll be sure to tell my better half about your generosity." Gwendolyn nodded, her, Ross, and Mirelle proceeding down the hallway on the opposite side of the door. The Qunari pulled the door behind them and it clicked shut, the sound echoing through the grand stone corridor. It was dimly lit, with much fewer torches lit than there should've been. Gwendolyn flicked her wrist and a bright flame conjured, floating safely above the palm of her hand, flitting back and forth over the space of it. It provided enough light to safely navigate through.

"Good lie back there, Ross. You're quite a convincing deceiver." Gwendolyn commented, lightly nudging him with her elbow. At this, Ross chuckled, lightly polishing his nails on the collar of his robe.

"Oh that wasn't hardly anything." He dismissed, although with a smirk adorning his features. "The real honor lies in being your bodyguards, my lady." Ross shot back, taking a bow that was slightly more dramatic than normal. Gwendolyn scoffed and rolled her eyes, smiling all the while.

"Who do you think disappeared? My money's on a bunch of those armored brutes." Mirelle commented. Of course she meant the Templars. Mirelle and Gwendolyn always shared a mutual distrust for their watchdogs with swords back at the Circle. Even now, Gwendolyn was contemplating on whether or not it was them or not.

"It can't be just them. Mages were missing too." Ross interjected. At this, Mirelle pouted. Ever childish, one wouldn't ever guess she was the same age as Gwendolyn, being of age twenty six. Ross seemed to find it endearing however, shooting her a warm smile. "But some from their side are missing too, so you're not completely wrong." At this, Mirelle perked up, shooting him a grin, at which Gwendolyn could see the tips of his ears bloom with pink.

When they had nearly reached the end of the hall, coming closer to a door identical to the one they came in through, Ross had shoved the two women aside and sent out a bolt of electricity from his palm. Both women stumbled a bit, confused until they saw what Ross had aimed at. A Grey Warden warrior had come near Ross and out of panic, Ross fired at him, effectively knocking him back a few paces. Recovering, the Grey Warden charged at the Enchanter again, being hit with not one, not two, but three consecutive bolts of lightning. Another Warden was approaching from behind Ross. Mirelle acted before Gwendolyn, sending a cone of ice from her own fingers, the treacherous point embedding itself in the chest plate of the armor, distorting the Griffon insignia.

Gwendolyn turned on her heel, right in time to barely dodge a hit from the dagger of a Warden rogue. The Warden reeled back and unleashed a flurry of spinning blades, moving with more grace than she'd seen anyone move in a long time. She let out a sound of surprise, continuing to move back as much as she were able, dodging hit after hit, slash after slash as the Warden kept going and going at her. He had quite the endurance. Or was it she? She couldn't tell through the helmet. Daring, Gwendolyn lurched forward, tackling the Warden and sent a wave of intense heat through their body, making them yell in pain. Through this, she indeed discovered she was attacking another woman.

"They're going to disturb the Elder One!" One of them yelled, another trying to assault Gwendolyn. "We can't let the ritual be interrupted!" A good hit from Mirelle had them stuck to the ground. Gwendolyn preoccupied herself with the rogue, throwing them back with a particularly good fireball. When the ball of flame connected, the rogue cried out in pain and fell to the ground before recovering, bringing their legs into their chest and launching herself off of the ground, readying another attack on the mage. Gwendolyn took note of the Warden flicking their thumb over the butt of the handle of one blade before flipping it, holding it normally again and going to strike. Another attack from Mirelle not only rooted them to the ground but froze her completely up to her wrists. Gwendolyn noted that the blade was hollow, filled with a sickly liquid. Poison.

Focusing, Gwendolyn concentrated her energy, sending another bolt of fire at the rogue, powerful enough to thaw her out and knock her backwards, hard, into a nearby pillar. Her head slammed against it and she slumped to the floor unconscious. The second one was dealt with the same way, but instead of hitting the pillar, they simply must've hit their head too hard on the ground. Looking at the other two mages, she noted they were fending off four Wardens, two warrior, two rogue. Ross kept them preoccupied as much as he could while Gwendolyn noted that Mirelle's fingers were darting frantically, creating a myriad of ice mines around the two of them. Once they were activated, it didn't take long for the Wardens to step on them, being hit with severe blasts of cold, knocking them off of their feet. The Warriors recovered first, one darting to Mirelle, and the other going to Ross. Gwendolyn sent fire blasts off in rapid succession from her palm, starting to feel tired, using too much mana on her last attack.

The fire blasts connected well enough to give the other two a good boost. Unfortunately however, a warrior went over in her direction.

"I got the other brat!" He called, charging Gwendolyn. He was wielding a massive axe and brought it up before swinging it down in an impressive arc. Gwendolyn jumped back in time to see the axe connect with the stone ground, cracking the floor around it, sending veiny patterns out around it in the stone. Gwendolyn gulped. Of course the brawnier one out of the four would come to her. She began to manifest another bolt when something sharp connected with her right arm, dropping her to the ground. She looked to her right and noted behind yet another pillar, was a Warden archer, grinning maliciously at her. Her helmet was off and Gwendolyn noted that her eyes glowed with an eery and blood chilling red.

The warrior began to swing his axe again, Gwendolyn firing a bolt at his hands. It connected, but despite the smell of burning metal, leather, and flesh, he kept preparing another swing. This guy was tough. Gwendolyn tried rolling but the warrior corrected his course, continuing to aim at her. A ray of lightning shook him, stunning him for a bit and Gwendolyn fired another bolt of fire at his abdomen, then another, and yet another at his hands. Gwendolyn pried the arrow out of her arm and yelped in pain. She heard another cry and recognized it as Mirelle. Looking past the warrior, she saw that Mirelle had been hit with an arrow in her side. Blood was pooling around the wound at an impressive rate.

Ross hugged the smaller ice mage with one hand and sent down streaks of lightning bolts from the ceiling of the temple, each hitting and frying the Wardens around them, including the one in front of Gwendolyn, allowing her to send more fire out to the standing Wardens stunned and frozen in place. Another arrow went out, hitting Ross in his arm. He grunted and followed the direction of which he assumed it came from. Gwendolyn concentrated and envisioned a circle of flame engulfing the Warden. It came alive right when Ross had conjured an impressive arc of electric energy from the center of his palm. The Warden was knocked backwards, just like the other rogue, slamming into the wall, behind the pillar, her head connecting with an empty sconce and slumped down, either dead or unconscious. A small pool of blood was trickling out around her head.

They finally had a moment's respite. Gwendolyn jogged over to Ross and Mirelle, both injured beyond just the arrows. Mirelle had caught a gash on her collar, slicing the robe and her skin pretty deeply. Ross had slashes going from his face, down to his arms, the sleeves of his robe in tatters. Gwendolyn felt guilty that she'd barely received a scratch whilst they got most of the beating. Ross fumbled with his robe and pulled out a small vial, popping the cork off the mouth and slipping it to Mirelle, who drank the whole thing in one gulp. The wounds weren't healed, but they'd stopped bleeding.

"You go ahead. I'll make sure she's okay." Ross urged, nodding his head to the door ahead. Gwendolyn looked between him, Mirelle, the door, and then back to him.

"But-"

"But nothing. You were right. _Something's_ going on. If there's more Wardens to be dealt with out here, we'll take care of it. You go ahead and see if you can find the Divine." He prodded. Gwendolyn frowned.

"By myself?"

"Gwen, you're more than capable. This fight took you by surprise, just like the revolt of the Ostwick Circle, but we all made it out alive from that, did we not? We can all handle this. Go. We'll be fine." He finished. Gwendolyn knew by his tone that he was finished arguing and she should be too. Sighing, she nodded and gave them both a hug before jogging off.

"Be careful!" Mirelle called out after her. It was the last time she heard their voices before going past the door.

On the opposite side, Gwendolyn was faced with another stone room with stained glass windows, though not as grand, and these ones were just simply fractal pattern of color, rather than images in glass. Basins of fire sat in two larger statues of Andraste, being cradled by stony hands, the heads of the statues touching the ceiling. Ahead was a larger door, easily three times the size of the one she just entered through.

Gwendolyn jogged forward, cradling her arm with her hand, bidding it with all her will to stop bleeding. By now, a majority of her right sleeve was stained sanguine and the pain was palpable now that the adrenaline was starting to ebb away. Closer to the door, she could hear voices from the other side. She couldn't quite hear until she got much closer to the door, a mere couple of steps away. She listened a bit.

"Bring forth the sacrifice." A voice commanded from the other side. Gravelly, aged, and dark. It made the hairs on the back of Gwendolyn's neck stand at stark attention. There was a collective sound of footsteps stomping on the floor and crackling of what sounded like magic. A pained cry could be heard in addition to everything else.

"Someone!" Another strained cry in pain. Desperation. "Help me!" The voice was feminine, also aged, but much gentler than the former. Was that the Divine? No. It couldn't be...could it? Gwendolyn couldn't stand back any longer and swung the doors open as wide as she could, jogging inside.

"What's going on here?" She demanded, looking around the room. Grey Wardens, all mages, were staring at a focal point, and that point was indeed the Divine. Justinia herself was bound in magic, floating precariously above the heads of all the mages, gathered in a circle, and all of them had that same ominous glowing in their eyes that the rogue Warden woman had. A creature, grotesque and statue like in height leered down at her, his face cracked and sporting shards of red stone, carrying a glow like those in the eyes of the Wardens. In his hands, cradled by bony, shadowy talons, was an orb of sorts. Off to the side was the missing Chantry sister, throat slit with a coagulated blood stain creating a macabre halo around her corpse.

"Run while you can! Warn them!" The Divine pleaded, her eyes welling with tears that were obvious even from where Gwendolyn stood. She stubbornly stood her ground. She wasn't leaving just yet.

"We have an intruder." He spoke, his mouth lifting up in a menacing smile. Gwendolyn gulped. He pointed a talon in her direction. "Kill her. Now." He barked. Gwendolyn heard marching and her head snapped in the direction of it, finding at least ten Warden warriors that were previously stationed opposite her in the room were making their way to her. How had she missed them? The Divine looked between Gwendolyn and the monster before brashly batting her hand, with what seemed like all of her available strength, knocking the orb out of the creature's hand.

The orb fell and bounced, rolling, and finally skidding to a halt by Gwendolyn's feet. Mind racing, and blood pumping fresh adrenaline through her being, she picked it up, her left hand scooping the rough stony object into her palm. At once, a burst of energy erupted from the orb and shook her to her core, dropping her to her knees.

"No!" The creature roared. He moved quicker than he should've been able to, swinging his arms down roughly and gliding across the floor like the rage demon she encountered in her Harrowing. A massive rush of heat emanated from the orb, engulfing her and everyone else in blinding fire. That and the creatures talons, outstretched, and a mere inches from her face, were the last thing she felt before everything went black.

* * *

 **A/N:** Aaaaand ta-da? Let me know what you guys think and how I could possibly improve. Just so anyone who reads knows, I have NOT decided on a love interest for Gwendolyn yet. I'm open to suggestions (either gender goes and even LI that aren't canon in the game are open for suggestion as well such as Cole, Lace Harding, etc) and will be taking them for quite some time. Thank you for taking the time out of your day to read my work. It warms my soul. :3c


	2. Chapter 1 - Imprisoned

Burning. Dizzy. Aching. Heat and humidity weighed in Gwendolyn's lungs, making it that much more difficult to breathe. Her hand ached. Why? Did she scrape it? No, it was more of a dull throbbing, save for a streak right across her palm that burned. She lifted her head, her vision slightly blurry. Dark brown locks fell in wisps in front of her face. Some of it was charred and the smell of burnt hair wafted into her nostrils; along with the faint smell of smoke and the more pungent one of decay and moisture.

Gwendolyn lifted herself up, first using her arms, then a knee, then finally was able to stand. She surveyed the area around her to find most of it was shrouded in gray, rusty orange, and green smoke. Jagged rocks reminiscent of onyx jutted out from the ground everywhere she looked. As she moved, she felt her tunic sway in a way that was unnatural. Looking down, she discovered it had been scorched and tattered. Ruined. She could feel sweat beginning to bead on the back of her neck and her forehead.

Up ahead, she saw a rocky platform, matching the rest of the protruding rocks around her, save for the stair like carvings into the face of it and what was standing atop it, seeming to be looking down upon her. A bright light in the shape of a woman stood there, as if waiting for something. From her point of view, Gwendolyn couldn't discern any features from the woman, only that she glowed. As if out of instinct, she began to trek forward towards her.

Behind her, Gwendolyn heard clacking and chittering from multiple different sources. Whirring around, she discovered a small horde of giant spiders, hairy, dark, and with fangs dripping with ichor. At once, she propelled towards the glowing woman, legs pumping as fast as she could manage to get away from them. Why didn't she exercise more in the circle? Once she reached the carvings, she grabbed onto them desperately, hoisting herself up with haste that she didn't think she had. Looking back once, she saw that the spiders were gaining on her. Cursing, she turned back around and resumed her climb.

Up ahead, the apparition reached towards her. Thank the Maker, she was helping. Once she was close enough, Gwendolyn returned her reach, wanting very much to grab the proffered hand before the spiders got her. Her arm hurt with the effort but she still tried, like her life was on the line. It probably was. Right before her fingers brushed against the woman's, her left hand pulsed with bright green energy, sending a wave of pain up most of her arm. That was the last thing she remembered of her. Next thing she knew, she was crawling on her hands and knees in the ruins of Maker Knows Where. Fire crackled everywhere around her and the odor of burnt wood, stone, and flesh hit her senses.

Overcome with a wave of exhaustion, Gwendolyn fell forward, her hand aching again. She barely registered the sound of jogging footsteps before sleep overcame her.

* * *

Waking up in an unknown room, Gwendolyn noted that her hands were shackled. The pain in her hand cleared the haze from her mind as her palm flickered to life. Turning it over, another jolt of aching pulsed through her and she took in a sharp inhale. The room around her was dimly lit. The smell of dust, sweat, and stale air circulated through Gwendolyn's senses. The door ahead flew open and in walked two women, one of them supremely cranky looking, the other more cautious and observatory. Gwendolyn's eyes flitted between the two of them, knowing she'd never seen either of them before and wondering why they were here.

"You're awake." The second woman, clad in a lavender hood strode forward, standing off to the side of Gwendolyn, looking down at her with her arms crossed. "Perhaps now you can answer a few questions for us, no?" She asked, her head turning to the first, the cranky one, and nodded once towards the mage. Her lips curled in what one could only describe as disgust and took so much as two strides towards Gwendolyn before yanking her shackles up, practically shoving them in front of her.

"Where did you get this?" Her voice was low and dangerous. It was like her tongue was cured in Deathroot before making her way here. As if by cue, Gwendolyn's left hand sparked, green energy whipping erratically around her palm and the back, causing another wave of pain to rock Gwendolyn's body. The latter groaned loudly in response, nearly doubling over, if not for the woman still holding onto her shackles, keeping her as upright as she could be. Perhaps just to spite Gwendolyn, the woman threw her shackles down, Gwendolyn falling and smacking her forehead against the stone. After the pain ebbed away, she turned her head up to glower at the woman.

"Why don't you-" She paused to take a deep breath, hoping that would soothe the remainder of her aching. "tell me." She finished, pushing herself back up into a seated position, her posture now straight. "I have no idea what this thing is, or how it got here." Gwendolyn by no means had the attitude of a typical noble, but she wasn't about to be treated like this without some shred of a fight. She didn't know why she was here. She was confused. She didn't know how that... _thing_ got on her hand in the first place. And even if she _did_ know, she wasn't about to readily give that information away to someone who was acting this way.

"You're lying!" The first woman practically snarled, lunging forward, held back by the second woman, who pulled her off of the mage.

"We need her, Cassandra." The second woman eased the first into calming from what seemed like a poorly directed rage. Gwendolyn pursed her lips and shook her head.

"I don't know what I'm here for. I just want to get back home. Sleep. I'm tired and miss people I knew back at the Circle." Gwendolyn tried to shift into a position more comfortable, wincing when she discovered her legs had the circulation cut off from them by sitting on her knees. She must've been sitting like this for a while to garner that result. "They must miss me." She finished, rolling her shoulders, looking between the two of them, who exchanged looks, then looked back at her.

"You must've been much farther out of your senses than we thought." The hooded woman remarked, her eyebrows furrowing together, creating an admittedly pretty frown, but a frown no less. Gwendolyn mimicked her actions, feeling her eyebrows scrunch together in confusion.

"What do you mean?" Gwendolyn asked, once again, looking between the two of them, searching for answers. Cassandra sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose before turning to the hooded woman, issuing a terse order.

"Go ahead to the forward camp, Leliana. I'll make sure she's-" She shifted her eyes, focusing back on Gwendolyn. "informed about the situation at hand." Leliana nodded, jogging out the door and out into the room adjacent. Gwendolyn could hear footfalls echo throughout wherever she just went. She guessed a hallway. Cassandra made her way to Gwendolyn, freeing her wrists from their shackles with a key, turned quickly and precisely, the locks clicking apart quickly. The moment of freedom was short lived however, as Cassandra quickly bound Gwendolyn's hands back together using rope.

"Come. There is much to show you." Cassandra ushered, her voice still low as she led Gwendolyn out of the cold stone room.

* * *

Gwendolyn faced down a monstrous abnormality, standing almost twice as tall as she, with an emaciated, gangly green body, the color of old moss, or mold. The creature slammed her down to the ground, the staff she had found earlier between it and her. It was all she could do to keep the creature off of her. Said creature unhinged its jaw, looking as if it could easily fit her head between its teeth with room to spare and let out a blood curdling screech. Acrid breath and droplets of saliva from the creature flew out of its maw and slapped Gwendolyn's face, making her cringe. She was grateful when a well shot arrow from Varric felled the monster, the bolt sticking straight out of its temple. Like a corpse, it slumped off of her before dissolving into a dense pool of smoke and ash.

That was the last of the demons from the rift. Scrambling to her feet, Gwendolyn rushed to the rift, almost slipping once on a patch of ice, but corrected her gait and was able to direct her palm towards the rift. A gout of green energy streamed through the air and connected to the rift, which coiled in on itself in response. The light from the portal contracted and pulsed, trying in vain to stay open, to stay active, when it lost and collapsed. Gwendolyn was already tired. Exhausted, really. And freezing. Since she'd woken up that morning, she had a lot dumped on her.

She was the primary suspect of a mass homicide, and there was a gargantuan hole in the sky, spewing out rifts that in turn spit out demons and Maker Knows What, and they're all over Thedas. There was a mark on her hand, _killing her_ and it was the only possible resource any of these people had in closing the aforementioned gargantuan hole. People were panicking, dying, and blaming her since she'd gotten out of that Chantry jail, and she had been facing off demons for who knows how long. _That_ was what she had absorbed already, and the day wasn't even over yet. By the looks of it, not even close.

Gwendolyn trekked forward, observing Cassandra and Solas picking the injured, spent scouts from the floor while Varric collected bolts fired from Bianca. A couple were standing, one of which limped forward, clutching her ribs and spoke to Cassandra.

"Lady Cassandra! Thank the Maker you made it when you did. We had begun to think we wouldn't make it." The soldier, a woman spoke. Even in full body leather Fereldan armor and a helmet, Gwendolyn could tell she was enervated just by how she sounded. Cassandra gave Gwendolyn a look before turning back to the soldier.

"You should thank the prisoner, Lieutenant. She insisted we come this way." Gwendolyn smiled. At least she was given credit where credit was due. The Lieutenant nodded at the mage, a smile crinkling her eyes, showing crow's feet at the corners.

"Then I owe you my sincerest thanks." She nodded. Gwendolyn only nodded in response as the Lieutenant helped what was left of her party down the path, away from the scene. Gwendolyn's party followed a bit after, careful not to catch their feet on patches of ice, which had proven more difficult for Gwendolyn than anyone else. Varric and Cassandra had come close to losing their balance at one point, but never fell, and Solas had remained slip free this whole time. All of it lead to Gwendolyn's minor unadmitted vexation on the matter.

They had reached the end of the hill, and in turn had crossed into the ruins of the Temple of Sacred Ashes. Gwendolyn frowned, knowing it seemed familiar. She looked around, flames still lapping at stone and wood, still stubbornly standing. Bodies, charred and unrecognizable littered the ground, their mouths twisted in an everlasting silent scream. The putrid smell of smoke and burning flesh clung to this area profoundly. Onward they went, further into the destruction. The Breach was very near.

* * *

Leliana had found them, jogging to the party, breathing a sigh of relief when she reached them.

"You're here. Thank the Maker." She said, eyes scanning everyone.

"Leliana, have your men take up positions around the temple." Cassandra ordered. Leliana nodded and went to carry out the instructions. Cassandra led the party through the ruins, trying to find a safe way down to the ground so Gwendolyn could take a shot at closing the Breach. The mage felt her hands become slick with sweat, matching her browline despite the fact that she was so cold that moments ago she was shivering. Andraste, she was nervous! The mark pulsed and flickered, a stinging sensation rippling across her skin. Gwendolyn wondered briefly if it was reacting to her unease, or if it was anxious being around the Breach. She didn't know and supposed she never would.

Voices echoed through the temple's remains, making Gwendolyn frown, feeling them poke and prod at her psyche.

"Now is the hour of our victory." It sounded so familiar, yet not. The back of her head vaguely itched. "Bring forth the sacrifice." The party had voiced their opinions and concerns on the matter, hearing them as well, but Gwendolyn paid no heed to what was said amongst them. She was more focused on the voices themselves. Where had she heard them before? She had to have, right? Otherwise, it wouldn't be bothering her so much.

Red lyrium. Varric pointed out the rather large vein of it growing from the face of the rock surrounding the remains of the temple, its glow emanating and curling in the air around it. Gwendolyn had never seen it up close, but she'd heard stories of it back in the circle.

"Magic from whatever destroyed the temple could've drawn it here." Solas suggested when Varric had asked what it was doing here. Gwendolyn had noted that when he asked his teeth were gnashed, jaw tight. He was obviously upset about it's presence.

"It's evil. Whatever any of you do, don't fucking touch it." Gwendolyn frowned at Varric's change in demeanor. The dwarf, who was laid-back the entire trip down here, had suddenly turned agitated and upset at the sight of the glowing red substance.

"Someone! Help me!" A feminine voice echoed through the temple. The prodding in Gwendolyn's head bloomed, becoming more insistent and intense. Cassandra labeled it as Divine Justinia's voice. Was this a piece of what happened at the Conclave? The prodding turned to pounding, giving Gwendolyn a strong, throbbing headache. She clutched her head, the mark twitching. Her hand up to her wrist was rippling with its green energy. At this point, she was behind the group.

Once the party had reached solid ground, a vision played out. A tall creature, clad in shadow, save for haunting glowing eyes stood in front of Divine Justinia. Doors opened and in came Gwendolyn, demanding to know what had happened. Gwendolyn frowned, her eyes widening as she shook her head. Why didn't she remember this? Why didn't she remember any of this? The shadow had given orders for Gwendolyn to be killed before the vision deflated, flickering out of sight completely. Cassandra turned to face her, an accusatory glare painted clear as day on her face.

"So you _were_ there! The Divine! And she...who attacked? Who was that? What happened?" She demanded. Gwendolyn worked her jaw before facing Cassandra and gave an irritated reminder.

"I. Don't. Remember." She growled, walking past the Seeker to stand in front of the Breach. She stared up at it, balking at the massive size of it. Up at the top, boulders the size of houses simply wafted as if weightless. The statue of Andraste, which it originated from was broken apart, but the pieces remained hovering above the ground, same as the boulders so far up into the sky. Solas spoke out, his voice carrying clearly through the area so the party could hear.

"With the mark, we should be able to close the Breach safely. However, I should warn you, trying to close a tear in the veil this massive will definitely garner attention from the other side." He spoke seriously with a tight grip on his staff.

"That means demons! Everyone stand ready!" Cassandra barked, her strong voice echoing through the ruins louder than Solas's did. At her command, the scouts and soldiers in the area prepared themselves, unsheathing swords with the telltale collective metallic sound that came from doing so or nocking arrows into bows. The archers aimed and waited while soldiers took up positions around the Breach, ready to attack.

Gwendolyn took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, hoping to abate her nerves. It didn't work at all but she schooled her face into one of focus and determination. Shifting her stance and readying her staff in her right hand, her left extended, a beam of that same green light sprang from her hand as if more than eager to unite with the Breach. The latter reacted immediately, contracting the same way the rifts did, but so unlike the others, something fell from the tear in the form of a massive armored creature.

The creature stood and stared down at the collective bunch of soldiers and laughed, the sound sardonic and deep, causing gooseflesh to bloom on Gwendolyn's skin. Cassandra gave the order for the archers to release their arrows, all of the projectiles simply reflecting off of the creature's armor.

Gwendolyn kept her focus on the Breach. Her palm was still facing the tear, hoping that if she kept on it, it would close that much quicker, and also hoping that everyone here could handle that...that... _thing_ without much other help from her.

The Breach rippled, the gout of light reacting in kind, acting the way lightning normally would. The Breach and her mark were combatting each other! She felt it in the sudden massive wave of pain that dropped her to her knees, the ray of energy ceasing. Looking off to the side, Gwendolyn took note that at least the soldiers were gaining up on the creature.

The behemoth was inhibited when an arrow shot by Leliana had landed in one of its eyes, garnering a pained roar that shook Gwendolyn's bones and the ground around her. The creature summoned a chain of lightning and simply swept aside a half dozen soldiers attacking its legs, one of which being Cassandra, who stubbornly rose right back up to her feet, her eyes blazing with determination to win the battle. She rolled her shoulders, opened her mouth and issued a war cry from her throat so loud it called the monster's attention right to her. It stomped to her, raising its arms up over its head, ready to bring them down on the ground.

Cassandra moved too fast for the creature. She delivered a deep gash on its heel, bringing it to its knees when Solas had encompassed his body in a wall of ice, allowing the archers to have more shots at its body. A few hit wounds that the soldiers had made in its armor, while others simply bounced off the tough hide that covered the behemoth's body.

Gwendolyn turned back to the Breach, still on her knees. She propped herself up on one and aimed her palm at the center once more, the beam returning. Sweat ran off of her face in rivulets, her body undergoing stress it wasn't used to. She pushed through despite it all. The Breach fought back, delivering another wave of pain through her body and more creatures poured onto the battlefield. Varric noticed and quickly dispatched one, the bolt sticking out grotesquely through its skull, covered in black seemingly coagulated blood. Another joined the fray of soldiers and another came to Gwendolyn. Using her staff, she aimed fireballs at the creature, nearly every one of them missing.

"Damn it!" She cursed, hurling another few at it. One hit, scorching its body. It was when another archer had dispatched it from their position above that Gwendolyn could go back to worrying about the Breach.

Suffice it to say it was a long fight. The behemoth fought with the last of its strength until it was felled by Cassandra and a few of the remaining soldiers. A creature approached Gwendolyn and had its long, scaly, splintering arms around her neck. Solas froze it solid and Gwendolyn tried one last time that day to close the Breach. By now, she was covered in sweat, her hair clinging to her face in wet tendrils. Her skin was flushed, and dusted with soot and dirt from the fight. Her clothes, as raggedy as they'd been before, were all but trash by now and stained the same way her skin was with the addition of quite a bit of blood. The Breach reacted strongly, a bright white light bathing the area and a thundering boom emitting from the impact. At once, the Breach pulsed through the entire sky once more, sending a ripple of wind and debris all around it for miles, even reaching Haven and bewildering the people dwelling in the settlement.

Gwendolyn once again felt a much welcome sleep wrap itself around her in a warm embrace. Her exhaustion plateaued as she slipped into a much deserved comatose.

* * *

 **A/N:** I re-did the chapter, feeling the last rendition of it was not only too long, but it went into too much detail over what happened in game. EVERYONE knows what happened in the game, so I felt I needed to re do the chapter. I think it turned out pretty damn well.


	3. Chapter 2 - A Minor Diversion

Gwendolyn woke up and washed her face, splashing cold water from a simple bowl given to her in her living quarters when she had asked for one. The last few days had been even more draining than she had so desperately hoped for. A new Inquisition had been born and so far all of its responsibilities had been generously heaped onto her, and the others in charge here at Haven. She had woken up all those days ago and had been welcomed with a new coat to cover her tattered tunic and pants, which she was grateful for. What she _wasn't_ grateful for was the onslaught of attention that people had given her. Literally as soon as she had walked out of her new quarters that morning, there was a cluster of people in every corner of Haven whispering about her. The Herald of Andraste.

She stopped the Breach from growing! She saved them all! And yet, these very people were the ones who spat at her feet and cursed her when she was being dragged through with Cassandra.

It hadn't gotten any better since then, either.

The Hinterlands were a disaster, and tensions were high due to the mage and Templar fighting getting worse and worse. Gwendolyn and her party had done what they could, going as far as to personally track down the Templar encampment and the Apostate stronghold and had quelled their numbers nicely. The refugees at the crossroads were doing better as well, according to recent reports from scouts in the area. The ram meat and furs that they had brought and the supplies they located were doing wonders for the poor souls. Because of the work her group had done, now hunters and scouts were able to safely continue hunting and gathering for the refugees when they needed to, which Gwendolyn had been very happy about. There was no sense in not making sure these people could at least be provided for.

Horsemaster Dennet had agreed, albeit with reservations, to come and help the Inquisition's cause. So far, it seemed to be that he was fitting right in with everyone else. Another blessing. Mother Giselle had accompanied the party back to Haven and had lent any and all information and assistance she could to those who needed it. She worked with apothecary Adan regularly and due to that, the wounded and sick in Haven were faring much better than they had been beforehand.

When Gwendolyn had finished washing her face, she noted that her braid had gotten wet in the process and she grimaced. Her hair was all but gone.

In the explosion and the fighting that occurred when trying to close the Breach, her hair had been charred, forcing her to have to cut it to the point where it would have been salvageable. Unfortunately that meant that her once beautiful hair that went down past her shoulder blades, was now cut choppily up to the very end of her chin. It left her neck feeling vulnerable and bare and she couldn't stand it. The only comfort that she had was that it would grow back. Eventually. The only thing left of it was that singular long braid.

That wasn't the only such change that Gwendolyn had undergone, either. In addition to her hair being cut so short, she had also noted that her eyes changed color. Before the events that had happened as of late, her eyes were a dark brown, matching her hair. However, the first time she looked in a mirror after the events at the Temple of Sacred Ashes, she saw that they were now a brilliant green. The color was a perfect mimicry of the anchor in her hand.

Inhaling deeply, Gwendolyn tried to prepare herself for the day. The party had just gotten back from Redcliffe, meeting with Magister Alexius from the Tevinter Imperium. The war council was about to meet to discuss how they should approach this whole situation. Fiona, the Grand Enchanter herself had extended an invitation to Redcliffe to discuss an alliance with the rebel mages, but curiously, when her party had gotten there, Fiona supposedly had no memory of inviting them there in the first place. Another mage had conspired with Gwendolyn and her group, claiming it to be the work of something very powerful and previously unheard of.

Time magic.

At first Gwendolyn had thought it absurd, but the more that the fellow mage, Dorian, had explained the situation, the more things slid into place, along with more pain stacking on top of itself in her skull. Lately she'd been suffering from headaches. At the end of the ordeal, Gwendolyn had left with another agent for the Inquisition, a possible new ally, and more questions than answers. All she knew is that something didn't seem right and that they needed to get to the bottom of this.

She drew her new cloak from the chest in her quarters, happy with how warm it made her. It covered the standard beige shirt she had been given and was made of druffalo hide, which was definitely a boon in places like the Hinterlands and the Storm Coast. The collar was lined with ram fur and buttons with the Inquisition insignia were fixed into the length of it. Grabbing her staff, Gwendolyn made her way to Haven's chantry.

Her feet pressed down on snow that had been trod on by multiple sets of feet throughout the day. It was closer to the evening now as she made her way to the stone building at the top of the hill, overlooking the settlement. A slight breeze blew past her, making her shiver as it came in contact with her neck. She missed her hair so much!

"Hey." Someone addressed her. Snapping her head in the direction of the voice, she discovered it was Varric who had spoken to her. Gwendolyn nodded in acknowledgment and kept walking. "Not so fast." He stopped her again. Offering a friendly enough smile, he spoke again. "Got a minute?" Gwendolyn pursed her lips and walked over, stopping by the fire that the Dwarf had himself stationed by periodically. He even had his own chair there. She stared at him, waiting for his reply.

"Geez. You're not much for smiles, are you?" He asked. Gwendolyn avoided his gaze after that comment, her eyes drifting off to the distance, towards the chantry as she shrugged. She crossed her arms, waiting for him to say whatever it was he had to say. He sighed in response. "Look. I know things have been...pretty shitty lately. The world is falling apart and you seem to be put right in the middle of it all of a sudden." This made Gwendolyn look back at him. "But it's not good for you to shut people out all the time. You've barely said a word to anyone since we were at the Breach."

Gwendolyn bit her lip, looking uncomfortable.

"There's not much for me to talk about. Everyone does enough for me." She tries to dismiss.

"There's probably plenty for you to talk about. I'm not gonna pry, but I can read people well enough to know when someone's in pain." He reasons. Gwendolyn's lips purse and once again she focuses on anything but him. "You have time?" He asks.

"I have a meeting." She motions to the chantry with a nod, using her foot to shuffle snow around absentmindedly.

"Think you have a little time to spare afterwards?"

"Why?" Gwendolyn asks, garnering a smile from the dwarf.

"I wanted to see if you'd be up for a game of Wicked Grace. I'll probably be in the tavern for a good while tonight. Just come by and try to relax for a while. It'll be good for you." He assures her before going to said tavern, leaving her behind. Gwendolyn's arms uncrossed as she resumed her trek towards the chantry. A game of Wicked Grace, huh? She'd have to think about it.

The meeting seemed to drag on forever. At the end of it, she exited the backmost room rubbing the back of her neck using the palms of both her hands.

In the end, the meeting concluded with the plan that would use Leliana's spies, having them take to the passage underneath Redcliffe Castle to dispatch soldiers as Gwendolyn and her party arrived at the castle. The Magister had written an invitation asking for the Herald of Andraste to appear at the earliest convenience. Obviously a trap. Be that as it may, Gwendolyn wasn't about to leave those mages in the hands of a Tevinter Magister, who was obviously shifty. Making her way down the pathways of Haven. Well, more like a mix between walking and dragging her feet, Gwendolyn caught sight of the tavern. She looked between it and her quarters, torn.

To go have a drink or two and play a game, or go get some sleep. She weighed both decisions in her mind before ultimately deciding to stick with going to the tavern. She paused in her tracks with her hand above the door handle before she resumed and opened the door, being welcomed with the warmth and smell of booze the tavern offered. Maryden was entertaining as always, taking a break from singing as she strummed on her lute. Enchanter. Gwendolyn recognized the tune. Several bargoers were engrossed in their own tales with various degrees of drink in them. There were a few solo soldiers and scouts peppered throughout, sipping on a tankard, and to the back of the tavern, Gwendolyn caught sight of them.

Varric sat with Sera and Iron Bull. Sera was telling some kind of story while the other two laughed. Gwendolyn walked up to the table and Varric was the first to notice her.

"Ah, there you are. I was beginning to think you weren't gonna show. Have a seat." He motioned towards the empty chair at the table, putting her right next to Iron Bull. She settled down in the empty seat, looking between everyone and feeling her ears heat up.

"Don't get too used to me being here. I just wanted to come by and say that we're heading out to Redcliffe first thing tomorrow. I'd like all of you to come with." Gwendolyn explained.

"You sure you don't want a drink? Or maybe stick around for a game?" Varric asks, motioning Flissa over.

"I'm sure, thank you. I want to be completely focused tomorrow. This kind of thing can wait until our newest ordeal is over." She argued.

"Come on." Bull protested good naturedly. "It'll be good for you, boss." He prods in his own way, taking a sip from his third tankard. Gwendolyn looks between him and the tankard, then to the other two empty ones on the table.

"You've already drank that much and you're still lucid?" Gwendolyn asks. Bull barks out a laugh, a grin overtaking his features.

"This is nothing. I've had much more of much stronger before." Gwendolyn's eyebrows shoot up at that.

"Uh-huh." She manages out, returning her attention to the other two just as Flissa makes her way to the table.

"Sorry about the wait, everyone." Flissa apologizes, wiping her hands off on her skirt before looking between everyone. "What'll it be this time?" The question comes out friendly enough. She isn't annoyed, which is good.

"I'll have another." Sera announces, waving her empty tankard around in the air, followed by her usual bout of laughter. "Maybe get this one something too." She points to Gwendolyn, who frowns. "Loosen up the knot in her breeches a bit." Varric's lips twitch into a smile at that while Gwendolyn still has a frown on her face, firmly in place. She doesn't look up to see Bull's reaction. She opens her mouth to protest but Flissa has already departed to get the drinks.

"I do not...have a knot in my breeches." Gwendolyn argues.

"Yes you do." Sera grins whilst insisting.

"No. I don't. I'm just choosing to be serious about this mission." Gwendolyn holds her chin up high, making Sera's smile falter and her eyes narrow.

"Yeah but that's all you've been, right? Serious." She makes a face. "It's not good. People who are too serious turn into arseholes." She takes a drink. "Then you'll be like every other noble I've met. An arsehole." She makes another, more sour face before downing another healthy swig of ale. Gwendolyn takes in a deep breath, trying to keep herself from saying anything, lest it escalate. She let it out in a sharp exhale before she spoke again.

"Listen. I want to be alert for this but..." She sighed in exasperation. "If it goes well, I promise I'll have a drink with you afterwards. All of you. You have my word." She finishes.

"It'll take days for us to get there." Varric interjects. "Wind down a little. A hangover won't last that long. You'll be in good condition again in no time."

"And besides." Bull interrupts, and Gwendolyn realizes he's already downed a good portion of his drink. "They build character."

Gwendolyn sighs yet again and stands up from the table.

"After the mission. That's a promise." She states firmly, pointing between every one of them. "Bright and early tomorrow morning. All of you." She stated as she excused herself, tempted to apologize to Flissa as she brought the two extra tankards to the table.

Back out into the cold Gwendolyn went, the sun having set some time ago. Winter was just past its peak right now, a bitter chilled wind washing over Haven. She shivered, trying to pull her cloak closer to her body as she walked away from the welcoming warmth of the tavern. She'd have to make it up to them after the mission. She gave her word, after all. Her feet dragged through snow that had just fallen, leaving trails rather than tracks in her wake. A few feet before the door, her eyelids felt impossibly heavy. She'd been more tired recently than she ever recalled being in her entire life, including preparing for and then passing her Harrowing.

Finally ushering herself inside, Gwendolyn lets out a very pleased, very slow exhale. She sloughs off her cloak, not caring that it's now in a heap on the floor and lays down gracelessly on the bed. It seems that her tiredness has finally caught up to her.

The next day started easily enough, despite Cassandra beating on her door to wake up. Gwendolyn's eyes fluttered open slowly. Looking out her window, she noted that the sun had barely started to rise.

"Maker's balls." She cursed. Couldn't hold off for another hour or two? No, of course not. Gwendolyn pried herself from her bed with a strongly present disinclination. She lifted her cloak before easily dressing herself in it. Upon a small search throughout her quarters, she found her staff, which she'd regrettably dropped the night prior after making her way back so she could sleep, and her small pack, which she laced around her hips.

Opening her door, she was greeted by the sight of Cassandra, standing at her door as if waiting for her to awaken.

"You're up. Good. Most everyone else is ready as well." She greeted, business as usual.

"Most?" Gwendolyn inquired, raising an eyebrow.

"Sera is very hungover. She's proving to be more difficult to motivate than the others were. Perhaps you can talk some sense into her." Gwendolyn groans slightly before once again dragging her feet through the snow. She was tired, a bit cranky, and hungry. She hoped there would be a pause to eat before heading out. Bursting through the tavern, the door being pushed open too harshly slams against the wall, making Sera complain with a loud groan. Gwendolyn looks down to find Sera is still laying across a bench of one of the tables, a blanket over her head and barefoot.

"Sera come on. I told you to be ready." Gwendolyn scolds, hands crossed across her chest, happy at least that she herself is starting to clear the fog of sleep from her mind already.

"Piss off." Sera shoots back, curling into a ball beneath the blanket.

"Sera." Gwendolyn's tone is a warning. "This is why I didn't join you last night. It's because I knew it would end up like this."

"Well good for you. I'm staying right here." Her tone is stubborn and it makes Gwendolyn work her jaw side to side, her already low patience starting to shed layers.

"Don't you want to go, what is it you said earlier? "Stick baddies full of arrows"?" Gwendolyn offered, her tone a bit more clipped than she would've liked, seeing as how she was trying to convince her to go, but she wasn't going to correct herself.

"I'll go once I'm better. Later." Sera shifts under the blanket.

"We're not waiting for you until later. Come on."

"No." At this moment, Sera sounds very childlike and Gwendolyn's patience is down to its last few layers. Her hands move to her hips as she shifts to tap her foot on the floor, obviously vexed. Growling slightly, Gwendolyn marches over to the elven girl and grabs her ankles. She has a plan formulating in her hand to keep her with the party, but if it doesn't work, she'll simply go and get Cassandra or Blackwall.

"Let go of me!" Sera exclaims, reeling one of her feet back to deliver a kick right to Gwendolyn's solar plexus. It knocks the mage off, letting go of her ankles and falling back a few steps. Gwendolyn gasps a few times doubled over in pain. She kicks harder than Gwendolyn would've guessed. That being said, Gwendolyn's anger flares, the mark on her hand flickering to life, crackling in little bolts around her skin.

"You little-" Gwendolyn growls. "Would you at least consider sitting behind Iron Bull on the trip? You can sleep while you're on horseback. I'll secure you together with a rope or something so you don't fall over." As she speaks, her anger abates a tad, the anchor calming. At this, Sera lowers the blanket to look at Gwendolyn, her eyes narrowed. Whether it's in irritation, pain, or suspicion, Gwendolyn couldn't tell, nor did she care much at the moment.

"What if I lean over too much and he falls over with me?" Sera argues.

"It's Iron Bull, Sera. I think he can handle keeping you and him up on that horse."

There's a pause before Sera hides back underneath her blanket.

"No. I'm not going." She puts her foot down, figuratively, curling into a tighter ball on the bench. Gwendolyn's lips tightened into a very thin line before she sighed and marched out of the tavern. Haven was cold in the morning but Gwendolyn ignored it, marching through until she found Cassandra.

"Cassandra." She called. Cassandra turned in her direction, waiting for whatever it is she was going to say. "How soon can you be ready to head out?" She asked. Cassandra nodded her head, understanding that she couldn't talk Sera into coming like she'd originally intended.

"Within the hour."

"Then, would it be too much trouble to ask-"

"I don't mind coming along. I'll be at the stables ready to go, shortly." Cassandra excused herself, walking off to wherever her quarters were, leaving Gwendolyn by herself. She looked out into the horizon, the sun getting higher in the sky, bidding the moon to rest for the day. Once again, a breeze whisked by, chilling the skin on Gwendolyn's neck and she cursed silently. Hopefully it'd warm up enough for the travelling to be bearable.


End file.
